


As I Am

by ShatteredSwallowtail



Series: Taming Dragons [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24042964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatteredSwallowtail/pseuds/ShatteredSwallowtail
Summary: Spoilers for SB, as this exists in a hypothetical future where everything is happy and fixed and WoL isnt the only one who can travel between the Source and the First.He would not be doing this for anyone but Aymeric.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: Taming Dragons [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733218
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	As I Am

He should have run when he had the chance. Vanished into the night like the shadow he had become so accustomed to being and the Fury take Aymeric for talking him into this. “This” being not the formalization of their relationship, or the acknowledgement of the lasting state of their bond, but rather...the blasted ceremony that went along with it. Ceremony wasn’t something he tended towards; honestly he avoided it whenever possible. And this one...wasn’t something he could now avoid. Not after Aymeric had been so considerate as to ask him no less than three times if it was alright so long as they kept it small and limited to their few comrades. It wasn’t anything that he himself needed, and it had seemed to make his intended happy so he had given his agreement.

An agreement he was cursing heavily as he suffered Alphinaud to make another minute - and pointless, in his opinion - adjustment to some miniscule portion of his outfit. Thank the twelves he had been possessing of the forethought to outright refuse any such ‘help’ from the younger of Haurchefaunt’s brothers when Artoirel had offered their aid in preparations. Otherwise the elder lord of Fortemps manor would doubtless be lacking two sons instead of one, as Estinien would have choked the life out of Emanellaine within 2 minutes. Artoirel at least shut up and only spoke of useful things instead of prattling on constantly. Which gave Estinien a slightly vindictive thrill when he considered how patently aggravating it must be to Aymeric to have the younger Fortemps son assisting with _his_ preparations. As for Alphinaud… well, he wanted to bite his own tongue off admitting it, but he was fond of the boy and that fondness had prevented him from outright refusing the offer of help from the nobleborn youth.

Estinien was now resolved to crush any future hints of altruism on his part as the two of them had jointly declared that in no way could he attend his own wedding in his armour or anything else that he actually owned. Which was...ridiculous. Clothes were clothes, and armour was certainly a formal thing; he’d worn it to countless ceremonial events as the Azure Dragoon and there was no reason why it wouldn’t suit just as well for this one. At least, that was the argument he had attempted to put up before it had been soundly quashed by a scowling Alphinaud and an aghast-looking Artroirel. Both of whom seemed nigh scandalized that he would even suggest such a thing.

And thus here he found himself. Stuffed into borrowed finery - he refused to acknowledge that it had in actuality been purchased specially for him - trussed up like a pig for the slaughter as he ground his teeth and let Alphinaud braid back the top portion of his long silver hair. Reminding himself of two things betwixt every inward gnash of fanged teeth; that he was doing this for Aymeric. And secondly….that he was going to make the thrice-damned whoreson pay dearly for having to put up with this farce. Preferably in bed. Perhaps tied down, even. And he would make him _beg_. Clearing his throat softly as he realized that dwelling too much on how he intended to pay his intended back for this would leave him with a _different_ problem, he stifled a warning growl as Alphinaud’s fingers yanked a little too hard.

“Have a care… I do not wish to do this bald…”

His warning got an apology and an offhanded comment on how seldom he must brush his hair given the amount of tangles in it. Artoirel made some suggestion of oils and salves and _Fury help him he was going to murder them both before this was over._ Both of them nearly jumped out of their skins when he surged up from the chair with a frustrated snarl. “Would it be too much to ask that you both _shut up_ about the state of my blasted hair and get back to whatever ‘preparations’ still need to be made?”

Both pairs of eyes stared at him in surprise for a long moment before Artoirel cleared his throat and tactfully suggested that perhaps they should see how the others were managing and that he should be fine on his own for a spell. Fury bless the man, perhaps he would escape the carnage when Estinien finally decided to throttle them all in retaliation, and he ground out an agreement as the other man ushered Alphinaud out as well. Muttering something about self-preservation and questions regarding Aymeric’s sanity in this venture. Now blissfully alone, he shrugged out of the fur-edged coat - carefully, he would likely have his ears boxed by Alphinaud if he wrinkled the damned thing - and tossed it over the back of the chair before sinking down onto the couch with a groan. “I am doing this for Aymeric…. For Aymeric…” He reminded himself as he glanced in the mirror. He hardly looked like himself, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied smoothed and tamed hair and fancy clothes. It wasn’t as though he looked bad; quite the opposite, but there was just something…. Off. And he couldn’t quite determine what it was. Other than the fact that he felt ridiculous to be trussed up in such finery. These sorts of things suited Aymeric far better than he. He wasn’t meant for velvet and fur and silks. His life was one of leather and sweat and blood and steel. Not soft things like this. _Aymeric_ understood that…. Had countless times proven that he cared nothing for those differences between them. That he wanted Estinien in whatever way that he came and nothing had changed that. Not even the lingering changes from his time under Nidhogg’s sway. Those changes that he kept so carefully hidden from all eyes, even from Aymeric most times. Contemplating that fact led to the spark of an idea and he studied the discarded coat for a moment before his lips curled in a smirk. Yes, perhaps that was his answer. He would have to work fast, before his ‘handlers’ came back to check on him, but while he was certainly no tailor he had mended his own clothing enough times to be able to handle such a minor alteration. Standing back up, he scooped up the heavy velvet and fur and pulled out a small knife. Here went nothing.

Whatever Estinien had planned went unnoticed when the other two Elezen returned a short while later to find him seated on the couch again, still scowling as though unwilling to move and potentially ruffle himself and thereby be subjected to further ‘primping’ on their part. To their credit, both of them seemed to recognize that his frustrations had risen to near murderous levels and wisely kept idle chatter to a minimum as they informed him - thank the twelve - that it was finally time to commence this circus and he should follow them. With a heaved sigh and a muttered praise to Halone and any of the other gods that thought to listen, he followed after them to the small chapel in the House Fortemps manor. He had feared Aymeric would have chosen something far more obvious; the high church of the Holy See perhaps, and had thanked every single one of the twelve when his intended had suggested they inquire about something far more private. And while he hadn’t expected the Lord Commander to go so far as asking the current baron of house Fortemps for permission to make use of their private chapel, Artoirel’s agreement had taken care of much of the issue of privacy. He had left the manner of who to invite as guests and witnesses up to Aymeric, as he himself had scant few who mattered enough to him to be included in such an event. That being said, he was grateful to see that he recognized nearly every person in the small room as they entered. The Scions he knew, though the young redhaired girl was unknown to him as was the similarly titian-haired Miqo’te man seated beside the Warriour of Light as she smiled and waved at him. Thancred was leaning against Urianger and he snorted inwardly at the confirmation of what he'd always suspected. Lucia was there, as was his own adopted father, but he spared them hardly a glance as he instead focused on Aymeric as he joined him in front of the alter.

Words were never his strong suite but they had flown far and wide away and all he could do was swallow hard and stare. While he felt like a trussed up puppet in his finery, Aymeric wore his like a second skin and even if he’d been able to find words...Estinien doubted any of them would do his lord justice. He felt he could have nearly kissed the priest as the man seemed to decide that it was time to begin and filled the awkward - in his opinion - silence with some manner of prayer or devotion. Honestly, he had no idea what was being said, they could have been consigning his soul to the Void and he wouldn’t have cared so long as Aymeric kept looking at him the way he was right now. Sky-hued eyes so full of love and acceptance that he felt tiny by comparison and had to swallow back a lump in his throat as he reached to take one of Aymeric’s hands with a tight squeeze. This….was real. This was really happening and it felt so surreal as he watched his own fingers gently side a thick black band onto Aymeric’s finger. Black like the scales he had crafted it from, made to match the earcuff that had never left his lover’s ear since he had gifted it and he watched as Aymeric’s eyes widened and brimmed with tears as the connection was made before cool metal encircled his own finger and he found his voice again.

“Wait.”

The entire room froze, Aymeric’s smile fading slightly into confusion as he tried to sort out why Estinien had just interrupted them. Shaking his head, the dragoon managed a soft smile as a reassurance before reaching up to finger the earring he hadn’t taken off since Aymeric had given it to him. His fingers shook slightly as he tugged it free and the glamour dispelled. Dark blue eyes shifting to glowing ruby as scales and horns faded into view...as did the dark leathery wings against his back. Ignoring the gasps of surprise - he hoped they were just surprise - from their audience, he reached a shaking hand up to cup Aymeric’s jaw. “You once said….that you would have me, even like this. Even when….. I would not have myself. So…. I would do this… as myself. As all of myself…. Even this part that I struggle to accept….and you so readily do.”

His words obviously found their mark as he watched Aymeric blink back more tears and raise his own hand to cover Estinien’s with a gentle smile. “Then I will have all of you, Estinien… for the rest of my life.” Whatever remaining words that the priest had to say, they seemed rather useless at this point because he had already dove in for a kiss as he pulled Aymeric close against him and he dimly heard someone - most likely Thancred - make a snide comment that it was about time they got to the good part and vague cheering erupted around them. When he decided that perhaps Aymeric needed to breathe, he pulled back with a wicked grin on his face. “And now that I have subjected myself to this….you are officially _mine_... and I intend to have you all to myself for a time.” Thanking the Fury for open windows and ignoring Aymeric’s confused demands that he clarify, he gave a curt nod to their guests before dragging his new husband out the window with a laugh and a hard flap of wings.


End file.
